


Caught

by ErosWritten (56leon)



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safewords, Vanilla, but the plot still exists, honestly his hands are bound and that's it, honestly it's like 80 percent porn, thanks Cyrus, three pages of PWP turned into eleven pages of sexual catharsis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 13:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15462036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/56leon/pseuds/ErosWritten
Summary: Cyrus is keeping something from Therion, and the thief is just alittlesuspicious.Breaking into his lover's office, he realizes a bit too late, can backfire spectacularly.(Fortunately, it works in both parties' favor.)





	Caught

**Author's Note:**

> There are too many feelings in this fic!! I just wanted Therion to get railed and look what happened!!!!!
> 
> This is my first smutfic on AO3 so p-please be gentle, senpai
> 
> ok I'll see myself out now

“Delivery for Professor Cyrus Albright. T715-2.”

“Another? Well, I suppose you’re all clear. Go on ahead.”

Therion hid a smug smirk under the brim of a merchant’s cap as he carried the parcel up the many flights of stairs leading to Cyrus’s office. Really, it was too easy to get in and out whenever he wanted now that he knew the password. And the poor fool never once thought to change it? He was just  _ asking _ to be robbed.

With a hum, he knocked on the door to the office, already knowing that it was empty.  _ Professor _ Albright had his late evening lecture at the moment, one that would most likely end half an hour late due to the woman who tended to hover around him. Therion’s eye twitched in irritation at the thought, but he stamped it down; there was no need to be getting  _ sentimental  _ about the old stodge’s popularity. He was here for a  _ purpose _ today.

Usually, the delivery boys would only put their parcels in front of the door and leave in hopes that nobody would come and pilfer it. Of course, Therion wasn’t a delivery boy, and he was there to pilfer himself, and so instead of leaving, he set the package down on the floor and whipped out a lockpick, making quick work of the ages-old lock on the door. “Honestly, you could’ve given me more of a challenge,” he muttered under his breath, but complained no further as the door quietly swung open.

Once he was inside, the  _ real _ hunt began. Therion didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, only that it was small and contained inside a an equally small silver box. He had noticed Cyrus stroll out of a store with it some days back, and ever since then, his curiosity had been piqued. An old friend, hiding something valuable from a master thief with the stickiest fingers in Orsterra? It was a recipe for disaster and Cyrus should have known it.

“Someone needs an interior decorator,” he noted softly as he scanned the room. It wasn’t disorganized, but rather the layout had remained the same no matter how many times Therion broke in. Shelves full of old books to the left, shelves full of old scrolls to the right, shelves full of old  _ manuscripts _ (“They’re books, Cyrus.” “There is a  _ difference,  _ Therion.”) behind the desk....it was as if everything in the room was simply for storage and not aesthetic.

Unfortunately for Therion, that meant there were a lot of places to look, and it wasn’t going to be easy to even begin. A preliminary search of the desk led to nothing of interest; there was a quill resting next to a closed inkpot, a scroll tied with a fairly sturdy piece of rope, several spare leaves.....actually, he was just going to take those.

Just as he reached for the leaves, the quiet click of footsteps approached, and he froze- they stopped in front of the door, and without any hesitation he ducked under the desk, hoping that whoever it was wasn’t planning on checking in on Cyrus’s office.

However, it really didn’t seem like Aeber was on his side that day, as the door opened and whoever was outside stepped in. “You know,” his luck was deemed worse as Cyrus’s voice called out. “I would think that a master thief would know better than to leave a previously locked door unlocked. Isn’t that right,  _ Therion? _ ”

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered, crawling out from under the desk and returning the unimpressed stare Cyrus was giving him. “Don’t you have a few princesses to impress,  _ professor?” _

Cyrus flinched, and Therion almost did the same. Maybe saying that wasn't the best idea. “I would rather you not reopen fresh wounds, Therion. Now what are you doing here, and could it not have waited until  _ after _ I got back from my lecture?”

Of course Therion, as he was, was far too stubborn to admit that he was suspicious of something Cyrus was hiding, and so instead he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it could have, but I’m impatient. You know me. People to see, places to go, things to  _ steal. _ ”

Cyrus tsk’ed. “Really, now. And do any of those  _ things to steal _ happen to take residence in my office, of all places?”

There was a beat of silence, in which Cyrus waited for an answer that Therion didn't want to give- and then several things happened in a very specific order. Therion, brazen idiot that he was, tried to make a mad dash  _ over _ Cyrus’s desk instead of around it, Cyrus muttered an incantation that sounded distinctly like ancient S’waarkian (H’aanit would have been proud of Therion for recognizing it), and the rope binding the scroll Therion had seen before flew away from its current place to wrap around both of Therion’s wrists.

With no hands to support him, Therion landed on the table with a thud, groaning as his cap went flying onto the floor and his cheek pressed into hard wood- probably cedar, if Therion knew his desks as well as he stole them. “Damnit, could you have done that  _ any _ harder,” he ground out, huffing as Cyrus drew nearer. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just let me go already, geez.”

Cyrus simply hummed and picked him up by the collar like a mother cat -  _ curse his parents for lacking inches _ \- before dumping him unceremoniously into the nearby chair. It wasn’t any less of a bruise to Therion’s pride, but at least his face wasn’t being squashed anymore. “We both know you’re not sincerely apologetic, so give me a reason why I should.”

“Because I’m a great person?” Therion suggested, watching with eagle eyes as Cyrus leaned casually against his desk. He seemed to be the only person that the scholar relaxed around, as if the witty banter was enough to stop him from being a prude for five seconds. He shouldn’t have been as proud as he was about that fact. “Or maybe because I’m your friend. I helped you out with that psychotic vampire man living in the sewers, and the- hey hey hey, what are you doing?”

Cyrus glanced over at Therion, halfway through loosening his own tie. “Nothing,” he replied casually, as if commenting on the weather or a particularly average book. “As you were saying?”

Therion cleared his throat, trying not to watch too closely as Cyrus first removed his tie, then started working on the buttons of his shirt. “I was  _ saying _ that you should.....let me go, right now. I have.....very important......thievery to do, and if you don’t mind, I would like to.....save the world and- damnit, do you mind?” Even as his eyes darted away, he couldn’t stop returning his attention to the way nimble fingers guided buttons through buttonholes. “Some would think you’re a kinky fuck.”

“You still haven’t convinced me,” Cyrus hummed, even as his shirt lay open. Therion refused to lick his lips. Therion also refused to stare. However, Therion was  _ very _ bad at self-control, and he could only watch helplessly as Cyrus moved to also remove the scarf from around his neck- only to replace it over his eyes, securing it tightly.

“Oh by the gods, you  _ are _ a kinky fuck.”

“Need I remind you that  _ you _ were the one who broke into  _ my _ office for reasons unknown?” Cyrus reiterated with faux irritation in his voice. “Now if you wouldn’t mind......” Therion couldn’t see - his scarf was very thick and, while very useful in cold cities like Flamesgrace, he cursed that not a speck of light filtered through the dense fabric - but he felt fingers play at the edges of his mantle, and a soft red dust of a blush overtook his face. There was a hum of amusement, and he yelped as soft lips grazed the junction of his neck and shoulders.

“Woah, Aelfric, Aelfric-!”

It was the name of Ophilia’s patron god, but to the two of them it meant something completely different, and Cyrus pulled back hastily. “Apologies,” he started speaking immediately, “you hadn’t outright specified, so I assumed that-”

“Gods, Cyrus,” Therion grumbled, and he could already feel the moment disappearing. It was like magic, the way the scholar could kill a mood faster than either of them could down a cait. “Stop rambling, it’s fine. I was just going to make sure you remembered to lock the door this time.” A small  _ oh _ of realization and one distinct  _ click _ later, Therion once more felt lips pressed against him, this time resting against his forehead. “.....sap.”

“And I’m to assume that this  _ sap _ has your permission to continue?” Therion couldn’t help but snort at the question. It was common knowledge that Cyrus was  _ terrible _ at romantic cues, and it didn’t help that he was just as bad at subtle consensual cues- including when Therion actually desired sex or when he was just messing with the scholar. However, that also meant that he treaded lightly, always making sure that he did nothing against his lover’s wishes.....something that was both admirable and, at times, annoying, as Therion’s  _ other  _ concerns were often misconstrued for outright rejection.

(The lock on the door was one such thing that Therion had to warn him about; he was never going to be able to look Olberic in the eye again after what happened last time, and Primrose didn’t care  _ solely  _ because one of her most trusted confidants had been a prostitute, which frankly didn't help their case in the slightest.)

“Yeah,” Therion finally muttered, sighing with the lightest hint of irritation as Cyrus’s lips moved to his cheek, then his neck. “You killed the mood, though, I hope you realize that.”

Cyrus laughed, a low rumble that made Therion shiver and  _ almost _ forgive him. “I’m sorry. I would take it back if I could.”

“ _ We both know you’re not sincerely apologe- mnn, _ ” Therion’s mocking copy of Cyrus’s previous words were cut off as he bit back a groan, trying not to show too much interest in the way Cyrus was lightly nipping at his neck. “Do that too much, and I swear I’ll stop wearing my scarf, and  _ you _ can explain to Tressa why I look like I was attacked by a wild maneater.”

There was a brief pause in Cyrus’s ministrations, followed by an offended huff. “I do implore you to  _ never _ mention our traveling partners while I’m trying to pleasure you again.” Still, he continued kissing and sucking at the soft skin underneath Therion’s collarbone, noting how he never verbally expressed his feelings yet his breathing grew slightly heavier as he continued. It was something about Therion that he enjoyed, how it took  _ effort _ to get him to voice his pleasure, and how that made it all the more rewarding when he did. “Was there anything you wanted in particular?”

“You have me  _ tied up _ and  _ blindfolded, _ Cyrus,” Therion responded with a huff, shivering slightly as Cyrus undid the button on his mantle, leaving it obvious that the thief had decidedly  _ not _ put a shirt on that morning. Whether it was because Therion had been expecting such an outcome or because he had absolutely no sense of style and refused to take off his cloak even in warmer climates was to be determined, but Cyrus was satisfied either way. “Right now’s hardly the time to be asking me about  _ my _ desires.”

That earned a hum as Cyrus thumbed at his nipples, swiping his fingers over them before doing the same with his tongue. Therion gave the smallest whine, a sound that was immediately interrupted as he clamped his teeth together in an attempt to pretend it never happened. His chest was sensitive, always had been, and curse Cyrus for finding out about it so soon into their relationship. Two tied hands moved from their spot in their owner’s lap to swat Cyrus away, but he simply chuckled and held them away with one hand of his own. Therion had yet to say the safeword again, and while Cyrus was such a worrywart, he knew better than to doubt his own partner’s boundaries. Instead, he grinned softly - an action he didn’t realize Therion couldn’t see until he looked up at the blindfolded thief - and reached up for a kiss.

For once, Therion didn’t object, and instead kissed back softly, breathing just as quietly as Cyrus’s hands went back to paying attention to his chest. “Cyrus,” he murmured, and Cyrus’s heart almost burst at the way his name rolled off of Therion’s tongue like smooth honey.

And then he spoke again.

“I swear to the gods, if you keep  _ toying _ with me, you’ll never see your damned staff again for as long as I live.”

“Right, right.” It was still a flaw of Therion’s to avoid emotional connections. They were working through it, slowly but surely; hell, Cyrus almost had a heart attack when Therion had finally opened up enough to accept his love, but he was still prone to avoiding it, or at the very least shying away from it as soon as he dared broach the topic. The emotion in his voice moments prior was soft and wanting like Cyrus had seldom heard before, and then it was locked away by another sarcastic quip. It saddened Cyrus, to be sure, but.....but that was why he did the things he did. To show Therion that it was okay to rely on him and have a strong human bond with somebody who loved him back.

Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, he returned to kissing Therion softly, one hand trailing lower to grind into Therion’s crotch, earning a low gasp from the other. “Cy,” he murmured into the kiss, still trying to hold back but not enough to stop a comfortable sigh from escaping in the form of Cyrus’s name. It was a delicious sound, one that Cyrus wanted to drown in, but instead of giving Therion the opportunity, he deepened the kiss, pressing closer and reaching into Therion’s pants to spread more warmth to his erection- for as much as Therion wanted to hide the want in his voice, there was no hiding that he was already growing hard from just this much.

Therion tensed up in response, trying to resist the urge to buck his hips into Cyrus’s hand and just barely succeeding. His legs did spread just a bit wider, allowing Cyrus better access, and so he dipped one layer further, into his underwear to properly stroke Therion’s length as he pulled away, just barely, from the kiss. The thief shuddered even more at the contact, panting softly as Cyrus teasingly stroke up and down, up and down but always at a slow, almost torturous pace. “You’re beautiful like this,” Cyrus murmured sincerely, watching an erotic blush form at the tips of Therion’s ears and spread all the way down to his chest. “Finer than any piece you’ve ever stolen, I would wager. I could watch you all day if given the chance.”

Truth be told, Cyrus was growing much bolder than usual, perhaps due to the fact that Therion wasn’t being given the opportunity to glare at him to  _ hurry up already  _ what with being blindfolded and all, but it surprisingly paid off as Therion’s dick jumped in his hand. Still, Therion wasn’t one to let his actions match his words, and he whined softly, still trying to complain even as Cyrus pumped him gently. “Gods, s-shut up. You’re.....making it too..... _ romantic. _ ”

He decided to test the waters even further. “Is that not the point, darling?” That earned a soft groan from Therion, and Cyrus filed that away for later -  _ petnames are received well _ \- before rewarding him with a particularly hard jerk. He gasped a bit louder, hands reaching up to grasp one of Cyrus’s shoulders. “I want you to feel loved.”

“I’m feeling more hard than anything right now,” Therion was  _ still _ complaining in that breathy, desire-laced voice of his, but the way his hips shook at least told Cyrus that he wasn’t lying this time. “Don’t make me beg, Cyrus, or I’m turning this office tryst around.”

As much as the thought of Therion begging appealed to Cyrus (not that he’d ever say anything, oh no, he doubted that would go over very well with somebody as prideful as Therion- but then again, he currently had no objections to being tied up, so nothing was  _ truly _ off the table), his actions and words were making Cyrus more and more aware of his own burgeoning erection. He also knew that Therion  _ could _ and  _ would _ stop the scene if he so desired; he had done so once before, in a moment of extraordinary pettiness, leaving them both painfully erect and alone in their separate rooms, and it wasn’t something that Cyrus would want to experience again, especially not willingly.

He had been backed into a corner, so to speak, blackmailed with blue balls by his own lover, but it was still amusing, and he couldn’t help but laugh as he moved to pick up Therion. The thief flailed a bit and looped his arms around Cyrus’s neck, yelping as his pants and underwear were removed completely before he could even wrap his legs around Cyrus’s waist. Therion still couldn’t see a damn thing, curse his scarf to high heavens, but he could now feel cold air around his cock- and a familiar hardness in Cyrus’s pants.

There was more movement, followed by what felt like a short descent, and suddenly he felt wood against his feet, and he unlocked his ankles, feeling the distinct shape of a lap supporting him from underneath. So Cyrus was still planning on letting Therion face him.....it irritated Therion that he couldn’t see Cyrus’s face, but he was too proud to admit it. Staring at your lover was romantic, and while he was open to receiving affection, it was still a struggle to return it. Cyrus understood, he always had.

.....maybe that’s why things were playing out as they were.

Therion expelled the thoughts from his head, an action much easier to do as Cyrus rubbed his clothed erection against his ass. He was teasing again, damn the man for ever learning how to be a tease in the first place, but Therion couldn’t find it in him to complain this time as he ground his own dick against Cyrus’s bare chest, an action that earned a dark murmur in his ear. “Therion.....”

It almost sounded like a warning, something very rarely heard from Cyrus save for two occasions: when fighting a particularly strong enemy, or when close to losing his composure. While both were fun to experience, there was no doubt that Therion thoroughly enjoyed the second much more, and so he was fortunate enough to be in that very situation. “I told you,” he breathed softly, hoping - judging from where Cyrus’s voice had come from - that he was just close enough to Cyrus’s ear for his low whisper to be heard, “to stop teasing me.”

That earned a soft groan from Cyrus, and if Therion weren’t so focused on his own desires, he would have been smug that the tables were finally turning. “I daresay I’m feeling like quite the kettle right now, sir pot,” Cyrus muttered under his breath, and Therion couldn’t help but make a face. It seemed as though he  _ still _ hadn’t broken the scholar’s composure enough to stop with the hoity-toity talk; he’d just have to work harder.

One hand rested on Therion’s hips as Cyrus reached past him with the other, mumbling a simple incantation to unlock the topmost drawer of his desk. There were a few knick-knacks strewn randomly within it, different from the tidiness of the rest of the office. In truth, it was only an act so that no particularly inquisitive mind would open it and accidentally happen across the bottle of lubricant at the bottom. His hand moved from Therion’s hip, and he applied a generous amount to his hand, warming it up between his fingers as he absentmindedly kissed the love marks he had left on Therion’s neck earlier.

Therion had no clue what he was doing, only hearing slight shuffling and feeling pressure against his skin, and frankly was growing a bit more impatient with each passing moment. “Cyrus, when are you going to-”

He froze up immediately as soon as he felt one slick finger press against his entrance. It wasn’t out of fear, but of surprise, and he relaxed shortly after, hoping he wasn’t glowing as crimson as he thought he was. Cyrus remained still for a moment, gauging Therion’s reactions - giving him time to back out - before pressing in, earning a low hiss from the other. “One of these days,  _ you’re _ going to be the one feeling this,” Therion complained; he always hated the sensation at first. The pain was always replaced by pleasure of course, but the anticipation often didn’t help.

Cyrus simply laughed as he slowly moved his finger in and out, making sure Therion stayed loose and relaxed before adding the second. That’s where things always got a bit more tricky, and Cyrus had to stop himself from withdrawing completely when a groan of obvious discomfort passed between Therion’s lips. “You're doing wonderfully, love,” he offered instead, murmuring softly into the shell of Therion's ear. “You have no idea how amazing you look.”

That, coupled with the fingers up his ass, was simultaneously one of the most embarrassing and most erotic things he had heard in a long time, and he couldn't stop the quietest moan that left his mouth as he ground down on Cyrus’s fingers. “ _ Hate you, _ ” he forced out soon after, and it wasn't necessarily a lie. He hated Cyrus for knowing all of his weak spots. For using them against him.

For making him feel things he still wasn't sure he wanted to feel.

Cyrus, for all of his societal flaws, could tell that there was no real bite to Therion's words, and so he just smiled as he sucked lightly on one of his nubs, earning a muted gasp of pleasure rather than one of pain. “You can hate me all you want,” he laughed, his voice becoming a bit more strained as Therion became more compliant bit by bit. “I have more than enough love for both of us.”

Therion actually  _ whined  _ at that one, tied hands coming up to gently grasp Cyrus’s hair as the angle of his fingers moved ever so slightly. “ _ Fuck _ you, I can't believe you actually said tha-  _ ahn _ -”

His complaints were cut off by a loud moan as soon as Cyrus found what he was looking for, one that made his grip on Cyrus's hair tighten. That, coupled with the absolute  _ need _ in Therion's voice, caused Cyrus to groan, moving to rest his forehead against Therion's shoulder. “You're going to be the absolute death of me, darling,” he breathed out as his free hand moved to undo his own pants. “I don't know what I did to deserve you?” The statement came out more as a question, and was followed up by a disbelieving laugh. “I love you so much, Therion. Gods, I must be an idiot.”

“For loving me?” His voice was strained, punctuated by small gasps as Cyrus continued to massage his prostate, and then one low whine as both fingers were removed- only to feel them replaced by the tip of something larger at his entrance.

“No,” was Cyrus's reply, and if Therion hadn't cared for him before, the soft, sex-laced adoration in his voice was enough to convince him. “For taking so long to love you.”

Cyrus pushed in and kissed Therion at the same time, muffling the thief’s cry of discomfort with his own lips. This time, Therion had no qualms with kissing back, moaning his approval as Cyrus began to move inside him, barely grazing his prostate each time. It wasn't enough, but with the way Cyrus was adoring him, he supposed he could be just a bit more patient.

He didn't have to wait long, and a particularly loud  _ fuck _ tore out of his throat as Cyrus lifted him off of his cock and then  _ thrust _ back in, hitting that area dead-center and sending jolts of pleasure through Therion’s body. He gasped and scrabbled at Cyrus's back, trying to find some sort of purchase as his hips moved with the rhythm of the other, catching waves of pleasure each time and making his dick bob with discomfort at how damn  _ close _ he was. 

“Cy-  _ Cyrus,” _ he moaned, and for all of his previous composure, he was too far gone to give half a rat’s ass about holding back. Something was wrong, and his hazy brain was refusing to tell him what it was, something he couldn’t see-  _ see, that was it _ . “Blindfold- I need-”

Gentle hands - just as needy as Therion felt, by far, but apparently much better at hiding it - reached up to undo the scarf from around Therion's eyes, and suddenly it felt  _ far _ too bright. Not even because of the light of the room, dim as it was from the setting sun in the window, but because of the way Cyrus was looking at him, equal mixes lust and love as a bright red covered his face and he breathed heavily. It was undoubtedly a struggle, for Cyrus as much as Therion himself, to stop for a single moment, and yet when they managed.....

For the first time in a decent while, Therion felt very,  _ very _ hopeless.

Cyrus was surprised by the way Therion's expression changed, from a squint to a shocked stare to something softer -  _ gods, he wished Therion could show him that softness forever _ \- but even more so by the way he reached in for yet  _ another  _ kiss, this time initiated by the thief himself. It was sweet and powerful at the same time, and Cyrus groaned in approval, a noise that only grew rougher as Therion began moving, lifting his hips up before slamming back down on Cyrus’s cock.

It wasn’t abnormal for Therion to take the initiative, especially when Cyrus took his time like he was wont to do, but it was still.....for lack of a better word,  _ hot. _ Cyrus uttered a few choice words into Therion’s mouth that he wouldn’t be caught dead saying in public, and they seemed to do  _ something _ to Therion as his hips stuttered before becoming more frenetic. Almost helplessly, Cyrus placed his hands on Therion’s waist, encouraging the other with the slightest of touches and cursing moans. It was getting hot, hotter than Atlasdam had any right to ever be, and curses mingled with each other’s names as one of Cyrus’s hands moved to grip Therion’s shaft, flicking his wrist in the way he knew Therion was all but addicted to.

However, Therion didn’t have the capacity to appreciate it as the touch pushed him over the edge, and he moaned lowly into the kiss. Streaks of white coated Cyrus’s chest as he pumped Therion through his orgasm, and Therion, overwhelmed by the sensation, broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Cyrus’s shoulder as wave after wave of pleasure wracked his body. “Cyrus,” he moaned softly, eyes squeezing shut as his breath heaved. No matter how many times it came to this, it always overwhelmed him- whether it was the physical pleasure or the emotions that came with it, he wasn’t sure, but it filled him to the brim.

Even as he came, Therion’s hips moved fast even as his legs shook under the effort. “Therion,” Cyrus couldn’t help but murmur lovingly, but not just once- twice, thrice, again and again, each time drawing more raw emotion out of the thief than he thought he could feel in one single moment. “Gods, please, Therion,  _ please-” _

Therion couldn’t help it; Cyrus had teased him so much in the beginning, taking control but staying so  _ soft _ and  _ loving _ that it almost sickened him (almost because, despite all of his complaints, nothing about Cyrus could ever  _ truly _ sicken him), and now he had the upper hand, barely coming down from his own high while still keeping Cyrus on the edge. Turning his head slightly, he murmured lowly into his lover’s ear, delirious enough to ignore the embarrassment bubbling up slightly from his next words-

“You don’t have to ask,  _ Cyrus.” _

Cyrus’s breathing stopped for barely a moment before he came with a low groan, his grip on Therion’s hips tightening through his orgasm before slackening. Damn the thief for being so.....extravagant, but he couldn’t quite say that he hated it. And neither did Therion, if the afterglow - and smug smirk on his face,  _ at a time like this Therion, really _ \- had anything to say about it.

Still, discomfort grew shortly after, and Therion frowned, hissing at his own sensitivity and the flaccid cock still uncomfortably settled inside him. “Hey, a little help here?”

“Apologies,” Cyrus replied sincerely when he realized, and lifted Therion off of his dick. However, he refused to let go of him completely, and instead turned him so that Therion was facing away from him, spooning him in the chair. Cleanup could come later, after he had gotten the more chaste physical contact that he so often craved after intercourse. Of course, Therion wouldn’t be happy about that, but he complied most of the time, and it seemed as though today would be no different.

As Therion got comfortable in Cyrus’s lap  - against his will, he would say if ever confronted about it - a light glinted off of something within the scholar’s private drawer, and Therion realized that it was a box exactly the size he was looking for. Upon further inspection, in fact, it appeared to be the  _ exact _ same box. “Damn, I almost forgot what I was actually here for.”

Cyrus cleared his throat awkwardly for some unknown reason, and Therion suspected that it was because Cyrus had finally realized that he  _ hadn’t _ broken into his office just for sex. “Wait, is this what you were looking for?” Cyrus couldn’t help but be surprised as Therion reached out to grab the box, letting him do so willingly just as soon as he untied his wrists. “I was going to give it to you when I saw you next, regardless.”

Therion didn’t huff, absolutely  _ not, _ but he did snort a bit. Opening the box, he was surprised to see what looked like a metal ring nestled inside. Not gold, not silver, just regular iron melded into the shaped of a circle. It was plain, endorned only with an engraving that read  _ T & C _ , and it took Therion a moment to realize that the inside of it, rather than the outside, had small diamonds in them, large enough to shine in the light but small enough to not prick his skin. If Therion knew Cyrus at all, it was probably so that other thieves wouldn’t get the urge to steal it right off of his finger.

Sly bastard.

“It isn’t much, and I would have prefered giving you something suited more for utility than aesthetic since you are so often traveling, but Odette said that this would suit you much better.” Tired hands wrapped around Therion’s waist as Cyrus rested his chin atop the thief’s head. “I never thought you would have the gall to actually try and steal it from me, though I suppose I should have known, all things considered.”

Therion snorted in reply. “And what makes you think I would have taken it at all? I’m not exactly a flashy person. Steal things, yeah, but trinkets and that.....I can’t afford the limelight. They usually get bought off.” It was true, but saying that he would also have sold off this particular ring was a damned lie if Therion had ever told himself one.

Without knowing it, Cyrus seemed to have stumbled onto the reason. “I would hope it’s because it’s a gift from me,” he said, half jokingly. “But also.....I didn’t know, truthfully. I just hoped that you would accept it.” There was a brief pause. “Would you like me to return it?”

Without bothering to answer first, Therion slipped the ring on. “What are you going to do now,  _ steal _ it from me?” That earned a laugh from Cyrus, deep and rumbling against his back, and Therion felt comfort emanate from him, letting him sink into his warmth again and again as if addicted. Maybe he was, but it was too late to regret now. Cyrus already had him right where any thief didn’t want to be. Caught.

“I don’t have to steal it from you when I have you here in my arms,” Cyrus replied, and for once, Therion knew that the flirting wasn’t accidental, that it was on  _ purpose  _ and damn if he didn’t find that more endearing than unintentional romantic gestures and innocuous compliments. “I love you, you know.” 

Cyrus had murmured it so lowly that Therion knew he was being given a choice: pretend not to hear it, or brush it off with yet another sarcastic quip. But there was a third option, one that he had struggled with for a while. One that he wanted to explore.

Yeah, I.....”

Therion took a deep breath. He knew that Cyrus understood his limits, that he wasn’t obligated to say those words back to him, but it wasn’t as though Therion didn’t think them often enough. It was just hard to say out loud, especially when not consumed by pleasure that ruled out any pain that his heart still held, any paranoia or fear from relationships past that hadn’t quite disappeared. But for Cyrus.....for Cyrus, he could try.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
